King of the Universe
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: Esme Evenson is assigned to interview rich Carlisle Cullen. The lust is obvious, but things are not as they seem. Esme fears her abusive husband will find out about them, while Carlisle is afraid that his ex-wife will seek revenge. Will the love survive?
1. Chapter 1: The King

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

**Warning: This Carlisle is quite different from the real one written by Stephenie Meyer. I hope you enjoy his new character as much as I do. :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter One - <strong>**The King**

I got out of the taxicab and paid the driver twenty dollars from bringing me from Water Street all the way over to Wall Street. The driver gave me a glare and peeled out into the fray of cars zooming down the busy New York City street. I ran a hand through my hair and looked up at the tall, intimidating skyscraper in front of me. The entire building appeared smooth, almost like it was covered in a thin coating of glass. The sun shone down through the few clouds that were cluttered about the sky and seemed to make the large building almost reflect its rays.

As I looked at the building, I began to wonder why the hell did Jessica have to choose _me_ out of all the reporters to interview Mr. Cullen. I wasn't anything special; in fact I was far from it. I was a housewife who had come to Jessica Stanley's small newspaper press looking for a menial job to occupy my time. I remembered the day she hired me distinctly.

I'd walked into her shop to see her yelling at poor Eric Yorkie about making this huge error that was entirely and politically incorrect. When she noticed me, she told Eric to fix it, and fingered me into her office. Her office was cluttered with papers, and it smelled musty like someone needed to open window already. She went over and plopped herself in her chair and began scratching things out of an article with red pen. "Damn idiots don't even know to call Mexicans 'Hispanic'. What are they, hillbillies? Did they grow up in cave or something? We could get sued if that went out! Damn bastards are so racial-sensitive today, you make one tiny comment, and it gets on national news… Who the hell are you, and what the hell do you want in my shop?" she demanded, her icy blue eyes scrutinizing me.

It didn't take long for me to realize that she was a very harsh, demanding, and vulgar woman. I tried not to show my intimidation as I replied, "I saw that you put an ad in the paper that you were looking for a field reporter…" I admitted, losing all the confidence I'd gained when I originally came.

Jessica narrowed her eyes slightly, then looked back at her papers as if deciding that I was just another plebian and not worth such careful attention. "Do you have any experiences? Any references?"

Fortunately, I had come prepared. I showed her the binder that I had been carrying under my arm. Inside was an entire portfolio of all my writings. I had worked on the high school newspaper and enjoyed it very much. I loved to write. Writing seemed to be the only way I could get a release—a release that my daily life never provided.

As I explained myself, Jessica half-listened, and half-read over my materials. "These are pretty good," she complemented. Before I could bask in her praise, she took it away. "I would like to inform you though that this is a paper, sweetie. We can't be waiting a week or two for you to get done with your little article and make it all nice and neat. We have deadlines to meet; papers to produce; readers to satisfy! This isn't like writing a book report for some freshman literature class. You have to write, and you have to write fast. If you wanna give it a go, kudos to you; I'll give you a shot. If you don't, it's understandable, but you will be pushed. We can't wait around for the tenderfoot to finish her project."

I nodded, ready. I wanted to prove this arrogant woman that I could do this job. It wasn't just that I wanted something to fill in my time, I wanted to make Jessica Stanley eat her words. "I'm ready," I said defiantly.

To my surprise, she laughed. "Really? Well, that's a new one. I like you; you sound like an employee I need around here!"

So, I became one of Jessica's number one reporters. Angela Weber and Bella Swan were her other two best. However, instead of choosing Angela or Bella, she chose me—Esme Evenson—to interview super rich, super sexy, super powerful Carlisle Cullen, owner and chief executive of the largest gas company in the United States of America. Cullen Gas was the cheapest, and believed to be the best gas in the country. Carlisle Cullen made millions daily, but always seemed to give back to the community by donating to schools, churches, playgrounds, parks and other public places.

Trying to regain my composure, and my determination, I took a deep breath and entered the large skyscraper, unsure of what I would face on the other side of the shiny glass doors.

Inside, it was bright, almost like I was stepping into this open, grassy meadow where no cloud-cover shielded the sun's vibrant rays. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light, I saw that it was no the sun, but just large lights mounted on the ceiling above. Before me was a large receptionist desk that was round like a half-circle. On the bottom half of the façade, a fish tank glowed a bluish color that was almost mesmerizing. Inside the tank swam a few small sharks, a few fish, and even a moray eel. On the sides of the desk were two towers that rose up to the ceiling. Bubbles rose from the bottom of the tank-pillar that disappeared at the top. It was unusual, but surprisingly classy.

Feeling like I was far out of my social class, I walked up to the receptionist desk. Three women sat at the desk, two on the ends of the circle, and one in the middle facing the doors. She looked up at me. "May I help you?" she inquired with a think, New York accent. She looked short, old, and kind of plump with skin that was so tanned it looked like leather and bright caramel hair that looked more like a fiery orange color. Her fat lips wore too much red lipstick and her eyes were dressed messily with purple eye-shadow that was definitely not made for women of her age.

"Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Cullen. I have an interview scheduled with him today," I informed her casually, trying not to sound over-eager or too submissive.

She let out an exaggerated sigh and picked up a black phone. She dialed an extension number, and I noticed that she also wore bright red nail polish. I tried not to giggle. This woman had to be in her early fifties, but she was trying to look like a twenty-four year old. "Mr. Cullen, this interviewer is here to see you, are you available?" she asked into the phone politely—much more politely than she'd spoken to me.

There was a few seconds of silence before she replied. "Very well, sir. I will send her up," she replied and hung up. She looked up at me and her tone immediately went dull and monotone. "You can go up. Floor 450, Room 17," she murmured.

I nodded briefly, trying to memorize her words. I went over to an elevator with shiny metal doors and pressed the button to go up. I waited a few seconds before the doors opened to reveal an empty elevator with a cream-colored tile floor. I stepped inside, my heels clapping on the floor. Inside the elevator, they seemed louder than ever, which made me self-conscious. I pressed the button that read 450, and waited for the doors to close.

The elevator began its long high ascend, giving me a chance to look over my notes. I had looked this man up on Google before I was even assigned the job. I had taken notes on specific details on what I'd read and formed them into questions. I then narrowed the questions down to an understandable amount, and circled the ones I liked best. I would do those first, and save the more trivial ones for later on. At the moment, however, I was more concerned about my greeting. First impressions were always a big thing for me. I wanted to seem confident, independent, and definitely not the submissive slave I was at home around my husband.

I had to stop a few times to pick up a few passengers, but quickly lost them to floors lower than my destination. I was the only person in the elevator once more by the time I got to floor 450. The doors parted to reveal a long hallway with dark green carpet and a few designs drawn in red. The walls were all white and room-less. The only room to be seen was a large room with a door cracked slightly open at the end of the hall.

This reminded me to much of the dark corridor that led into the light, and virtually death. Ironically, at the end of this hallway might be my ticket to success. If I wrote a good enough article, I good get huge credit, maybe even a raise from Jessica.

I slowly began my walk down the hallway, keeping my eyes fixed on the wooden door ahead of me. There as a name plate on it that, as I got closer, clearly read "Carlisle Cullen". What was really eerie was that there were no paintings or any other decorations on the walks. The only sound that could be heart was someone's fingers going one hundred miles per hour on one of those large calculators.

Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly knocked on the door. The sound of the fingers on the buttons ceased. "Come in," a smooth voice summoned from inside. The voice was soft, and almost enchanting. I tried my best not to be enthralled by it.

I smoothed my skirt and entered the room. Inside, behind a large, stained wooden desk, sat a man. He had dark, criticizing blue eyes and blond hair. All of his features were absolutely perfect, and he appeared to have a medium build. He also appeared to be tall, around six feet or so. He wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red tie. The jacket of his suit was hung on the back of his chair carelessly, and his feet were propped up on his desk with his legs crossed. His arms were behind his head, and he appeared to not have a care in the world. He presented himself as relaxed, and perfectly at ease in his powerful position… He looked like the king of the universe sitting there.

He looked me up and down, and for a moment I felt self-conscious again. Did he approve of me? A voice inside my head scolded me. _Why should you care if he approves of you? You don't need his approval!_ The more I thought, I realized that he was one of the most powerful, influential men in the United States. After a moment, he smirked to indicate his liking. My entire body resisted the urge to shudder at his smirk… It was so playful, and dark and… sexy.

"When Rose said she had an interviewer in the lobby, I wasn't exactly enthusiastic. Interviewers always pry too much—'what inspired you do to it?' 'why did you get into the business?'—things that should best left unsaid. Most of them are moronic men in which I have no interest… but Rose never informed me that my interviewer was a woman... I think that we will get along just fine. What is your name, sweetheart?" he inquired. His voice almost too much; he made me forget everything. I was absorbed just by his beauty and ease at which he spoke in the presence of a complete stranger.

"My name?" I asked like I was some dizzy girl who had no idea how to write at all and was just a prostitute hired by the head of the paper to get men to talk. I bit my lip involuntarily.

To my surprise, he smirked again. "Please, my dear."

_'My dear'? Did he just call me 'my dear'?_ I thought, my heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings. Somehow, someway, I regained my composure. "Esme Evenson… sir," I added at the last minute, not wanting to offend him. I bit my lip again, making it bleed.

He smirked once more and took his feet off his desk and motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. I guess this mean I should sit. I walked up and took my seat before him. He was even more breath-taking up close. "Please, call me Carlisle. I am no different than you are… well, I am a man, but I think you understand my point. I do not view those who are not as successful as I am as plebeians," he replied, interlocking his fingers and resting them in his lap.

"Okay… Carlisle," I whispered his name like it was sacred. _Carlisle! Carlisle! What a beautiful, unique, sexy, brilliant, handsome, wonderful, enthralling name!_ I thought, turning into a love-struck teenager.

There went that damn smirk again… and there went my composure with it. "As much as I'd love to learn more about you, you are the interviewer, and I the interviewee. I'm ready for the first question when you are, my dear."

_'My dear'…_ I thought dreamily. "Oh, yes!" I remembered, snapping out my daydream. "Where did you grow up?"

"London, as in London, England," he replied, speaking with an English accent. A moment later, he returned to his flawless American one. "I was born there just before my parents immigrated here. I grew up in the Bronx and, once I graduated high school, went more inland. I studied at Harvard for a few years, then dropped out and went into the gas and oil industry. I came back to New York, started my company and became a billionaire overnight."

I scribbled that down on the notepad I had brought next to the question. "Did you have any siblings?"

His face changed slightly. It was no longer confident, amused, or impressed, rather he looked like he had just been reminded of a horrible memory that he never wanted to think of again. "No," he replied after a long time.

I studied him for a moment, before writing no, and underlining it. "I know you might get angry with me for asking this, but everyone wants to know—what inspires you do what you do?"

Carlisle looked back up at me, his blue eyes turning icy and commanding. "I will tell you, but you have to leave this out of your article. It's bad for my image."

My heart beat soared as I put my pencil down to listen. "I didn't come from a rich family. I was always fascinated with money… I wanted to earn trillions of it when I grew up, and I did just that. The wealth, the women, the publicity… they were all just and added bonus. I had done what I wanted to do, and that was the reason why," he explained.

I stared at him. There was something about him when he said 'the women' that made me shudder. His voice was so low, and husky… I could barely resist him. Why was he having this effect on me? His words made me wet… God I didn't even want to imagine him with me… naked… on the desk… moving as one… him fucking me long and hard just like I wanted…

Shaking my head, I scolded myself. I was surprised, and shocked that I had even thought such things. Still, this man made me nervous. He made me want things I'd never wanted before. It was like… like I was on the thin line between control and release.

Carlisle must have noticed this. He flipped a switch on his desk, which appeared to do nothing. He must have seen my confusion. "It makes a this red button light up outside telling people that I'm busy and would not like to be disturbed," he murmured softly.

My heart fluttered. _Is he…? How did he know? Can he read minds or something? Oh, don't question it, let him fuck you. You know you want it,_ I thought, my panties already soiled at the thought. A more sensible side of me interjected. _No Esme. Show restraint. You're a married woman… maybe not happily married, but married._

Carlisle rose from his seat and stood up. My eyes helplessly ran up and down his perfect body, and finally rested on his crotch. There was already a prominent bulge there. I could take it any longer. I too rose from my seat and let my supplies fall off my lap and to the floor. Carlisle smirked again. "So you want it too, do you?" he chuckled, his voice dark and enthralling.

He came around the desk and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me close so my waist pressed against his. God his body was so toned, but at the same time soft. He smelled like roses, leather, and men's cologne… He breathed on my face, causing me to lose my entire train of thought. "Mr. Cullen… please…" I whispered, forgetting I could call him Carlisle. "Please… sir… fuck me," I half-growled.

Again, my own words almost made me gasp. Did I really just say that to one of the most powerful men in America? Carlisle smirked again, and nodded. "I am happy to oblige." He pulled away slightly and unbuttoned his shirt. He let it slide off his arms and to the ground around him. He was slightly tanned and just as muscular as I imagined. I went to unbutton my blouse, but his hands stopped me. "No," he almost growled. He unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor. He did the same to his boxers and let himself spring free. I stared wide-eyed at him. He was much bigger than Charles ever was, or could be. It only made me want him more.

Without warning, he pushed me down by my shoulders so I was on my knees. I was face to face with erect pillar, and finally understood what he wanted. I took the tip in my mouth and sucked it gently, massaging it with my tongue. Carlisle let out a groan and tangled his hand in my hair, pushing it forward so I took as much of his length as I could. With one hand, I grasped the base of him, and with the other, stroked his balls. As I pulled off, I grazed the sides of him gently with my teeth.

Carlisle growled and decided the speed with his hand. I didn't mind, and did the best job I could for him. I wanted to make him pleased, so he would give me the release I wanted. He seemed to enjoy it and it wasn't long before he released inside my mouth. He groaned as I sucked him dry and pulled away. "Your mouth is amazing, Esme," he whispered quietly.

"Thanks, C—" I began, but he put a finger to my lips, silencing me.

His blue eyes were icy again. They were full of finalism and lust as they gazed at me. "No. Any other time, you can call me Carlisle, but not here. Here, you are only to call me master."

Anger flared inside me, burning away all the passion. I spent seven days a week with an ugly man who demanded the same thing, now the sexiest man in the world is asking me to do it too. "Do you enjoy making yourself appear inferior to your women partners?" I muttered without thinking."  
>Carlisle narrowed his eyes. "If you don't like it, you can leave," he said, folding his arms across his chest.<p>

We stood there, glowering at each other. I copied him and shifted my weight on my back-most leg. Normally, I would have imagined our scene to be kind of comical—he naked and me fully clothed glaring at each other, trying to make the other give in.

That person was not going to be me. I smoothed my skirt and combed my fingers through my mussed hair and held out my hand. "Well, thank you for the interview Mr. Cullen, it has been a pleasure to meet you."

Anger flared in his eyes. "People don't refuse when I tell them to do something, Esme," he half-growled, spitting my name in anger.

"People don't really care about you, and I'm not surprised. They just do so because you intimidate them," I replied, angrily, my own voice drifting toward a growl.

I turned to leave, but Carlisle grabbed my arm in an iron-tight grip. He pulled me so my chest was up against his. He looked into my eyes, staring into my soul. "No one. Speaks. To me. Like. That," he said, his voice trembling with rage.

Jerking away, I smoothed the sleeves of my blouse. "Obviously someone should," I snapped back. I picked up my supplies and walked toward the door, trying to ignore his gaze burning into me. "Good-bye, Mr. Cullen," I muttered and left the room.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, yes this is my 'welcome me back' story I suppose. It's a new CarlisleXEsme situation I've been wanting to play around with. ;) Carlisle is VERY different as you can see, but don't worry, he changes into the old Carlisle again a little later on. Thanks for reading, and please review! :D **

**3 Warrior**


	2. Chapter 2: Dirty

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

**Carlisle: You know you want to.**

**Me: I know... *hugs***

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><p><strong>Chapter Two - Dirty<strong>

I was sitting at my desk, adding up yesterday's profits, when a hesitant knock sounded on my door. Rose, my secretary, had informed me an interviewer was coming up, and I wasn't very enthusiastic. I hated interviewers. The men were usually just jealous dicks who tried to pry inside and get some deep dark secret out. Any female interviewers usually got all nervous and tongue-tied at the sight of me, or were just way too over-enthusiastic, making me want to shake my head in annoyance.

"Come in," I called easily, trying not to make my dread apparent in my voice. I leaned back, and propped my feet up on my desk and holding my arms behind my head. A beautiful woman entered the room; the most beautiful woman I'd laid eyes one since Tanya… She had caramel hair that was the color of amber, and dark brown eyes that looked nervous and hesitant. She wore a brown skirt that, surprisingly, matched her eyes, and a white button-down blouse. The first few buttons of her blouse were intentionally unbuttoned, and showing a little chest. She didn't appear to be wearing much makeup, if any. The moment I saw her, my pants rose.

Ever since… it happened… I had a difficult time restraining myself in situations like these. Most of the times, my easily excited cock decided for itself and that was it. There was something about this woman though… I wanted her so badly, but at the same time, I couldn't bear the thought of a dirty playboy like me fucking a beautiful, pure creature like her. Still, she would be one awesome fuck.

I looked her up and down, admiring that sexy body, and smirked at the thought of taking off those offending clothing items. Finally, I willed myself to speak, trying to be casual as possible. "When Rose said she had an interviewer in the lobby, I wasn't exactly enthusiastic. Interviewers always pry too much—'what inspired you do to it?' 'why did you get into the business?'—things that should best left unsaid. Most of them are moronic men in which I have no interest… but Rose never informed me that my interviewer was a woman... I think that we will get along just fine. What is your name, sweetheart?" I inquired, my voice coming out smoothly.

She stared at me for a moment longer before looking around the room, then at her feet. "My name?" she asked like she'd never heard of such a thing. She bit her lip in a sexy way that made me want to take her right there.

I smirked, trying to keep whatever composure I could maintain. "Please, my dear," I encouraged, surprised that my voice betrayed none of my inner want.

She hesitated a moment, like she had to think, then replied. "Esme Evenson… sir," she said and bit her lip again.

i_Control yourself, Carlisle,_/i I reminded myself. _The last time you fucked a girl in the office, mom walked in on it. Control, man._ Still, this woman was pushing me to my limits. Did she really have no idea what she was doing to me? A part of me wanted to tell her how beautiful she was and that she was truly underselling herself. Another part of me wanted to pin her to the floor and fuck her as hard as I could…

Okay, I'm not gonna lie; me wanting to pin a woman to the floor and fuck them long and hard is normal in my mind… but telling her that she's beautiful? Where the hell did that come from? I hadn't even thought things like that since… Hell, I hadn't even kissed a woman since Tanya.

I smirked, trying to keep my cool. I took my legs off the desk to hide my growing tent and motioned with my hands to the two cushioned chairs in front of the desk. She walked up unsteadily, one hand pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, and the other smoothing her dress. I imagined her own hands running up and down her body trying for give herself even more pleasure while I fucked her… _Aw, fuck! Stop it Carlisle!_

"Please, call me Carlisle. I am no different than you are… well, I am a man, but I think you understand my point. I do not view those who are not as successful as I am as plebeians," I told her simply once she sat. After, I put my hands in my lap in an effort to further conceal my swelling erection.

"Okay, Carlisle," she replied in a whisper. She whispered my name like it was holy.

I looked at her in that outfit and wondered what she would look like if she didn't undersell herself like that. She could be the sexiest goddamn bitch on this earth, but instead, she just sat there in clothes that were off-the-rack and the cheapest, low-quality clothes money can buy. I could change that if she'd let me. I would dress her in the finest clothes this universe has to offer, buy her all the diamonds she wanted, even though none could compare to her.

Smirking once, more, I saw her body change. It seemed to melt and shudder under my gaze. I kept my smirk, liking how her body responded. It was apparent she'd never felt anything like this before. _I could make you feel a lot of things, girl,_ I thought, feeling dirty again. "As much as I'd love to learn more about you, you are the interviewer, and I the interviewee. I'm ready for the first question when you are, my dear," I said, trying to sound as normal as possible, but I sounded more inviting than I'd meant to.

I smirked again when I saw what my soft voice did to her. It made her nervous. She practically jumped with I spoke. "Oh, yes! Where did you grow up?" she inquired, glancing down at her paper to make sure she got it right.

"London, as in London, England," I told her, speaking with the English accent I inherited from my parents. She looked surprised and also in awe of my voice change. I went back to my American voice and continued. "I was born there just before my parents immigrated here. I grew up in the Bronx and, once I graduated high school, went more inland. I studied at Harvard for a few years, then dropped out and went into the gas and oil industry. I came back to New York, started my company and became a billionaire overnight," I explained, feeling her dark brown eyes on me.

She nodded when I was done, and scratched that down on her papers. She then looked back up at me. "Do, or did you have any siblings?"  
>Her question took me by surprise. I shifted in my seat for a moment, and looked down at the floor, remembering my home life. My father wasn't exactly the father you would see in those commercials where the father would call off work to play catch with his lonely son in the front yard. He was an alcoholic, and as much of a playboy as I was. He wasn't always like that. He came over to America with my mother and I, then got a job at a steel plant and started staying after work. He'd go get a drink with the guys, or stay back and flirt with the office ladies, maybe take one or two to a motel.<p>

Sometimes he would be gone entire nights at a time. When he did come home, he'd come home around two in the morning either drunk or looking like he just came from a motel with his clothes all ruffled, his hair mussed, and covered in lipstick. He and my mother would get into fights, and I'd take my little sister Rosalie and hide in the bathtub while they fought, and screamed. He'd get so mad sometimes, he'd hit her, or drag her to the bedroom and lock the door. I hated him.

He was my father, but he treated my mother like shit. After I got rich, I paid for my mother's divorce and got Rosalie, who was fifteen then, and my mother out of there. I paid for their house in Florida, so they'd be far away from my psycho father.

On Christmas eve, just a year before, Rosalie and my mother were driving up to surprise me. There was a bad snowstorm and there was a man driving a large Ford truck coming the other way… He was drunk and swerved into the other lane and hit them head-on.

My mother was okay, but had to get her leg amputated. Rosalie… Rosalie had been driving and she… She didn't make it. The accident was just outside of New York… they were only five minutes from my house. I didn't go to the funeral. I couldn't… I wasn't going to let any reporters or photographers see Carlisle Cullen cry.

With my nostalgic moment over, I looked back up at Esme. "No," I lied.

She wrote that down as well. "I know you might get angry with me for asking this, but everyone wants to know—what inspires you do what you do?" she asked. It was the exact question I hated and wanted to avoid.

For a moment, I was angry, but I calmed myself. She just wanted to know. She didn't know how truly uncomfortable I was answering that question. "I will tell you, but you have to leave this out of your article. It's bad for my image," I said finally, replied.

I took a deep breath and watched her put her pencil down. I took a deep breath and began. "I didn't come from a rich family. I was always fascinated with money… I wanted to earn trillions of it when I grew up, and I did just that. The wealth, the women, the publicity… they were all just and added bonus. I had done what I wanted to do, and that was the reason why," he half-lied.

Esme began to change. She crossed her legs and shifted in her seat like she was trying to hide something. She bit her lip and I lost it. My pants rose. I needed her. I was so caught up in my life, that I'd forgotten how beautiful she was. I wanted her; badly.

Knowing I would regret it later, I flipped on the switch that lit a light in the hallway to alert people that I am very busy. When I saw Esme's confused face, I knew I had to elaborate. "It makes a this red button light up outside telling people that I'm busy and would not like to be disturbed," I explained, my voice low and sounding almost greedy.

Esme's eyes widened, but they were full of lust and a desire for the dirty wanting I shared. I rose from my seat. Her gorgeous brown eyes ran helplessly up and down my body, ravaging it. Her gaze finally settled on my hard erection. The moment she saw it, she practically jumped from her seat letting all of her supplies fall to the floor. "So you want it too, do you?" I chuckled, thrilled. This would make my job a thousand times easier. It couldn't be called rape if she wanted it too, right?

I came around the desk and grabbed her wrist in one hand, and put my other on her toned ass. I pulled her waist forward so her delicate figure was against mine. Her touch made my cock throb. I needed a release and soon, or it felt as if I would explode. She smelled like perfume, laundry detergent and a musty apartment complex. It wasn't as I expected, but on her, it smelled like something Jimmy Choo would make. Just the feeling of her body against mine sent a surprising shockwave through me. It felt like she had brought me to life. It felt like I'd been dormant for all these years, and finally, I was alive.

Esme let out a soft moan. I needed to get out my trousers, fearing they would rip at the crotch. Her moan excited me further. "Mr. Cullen… please…" she whispered, breathless. She wrapped one arm up and around my neck and pulled my head down so her mouth was in my ear. "Please… sir… fuck me," she breathed causing me to have what felt like a tiny orgasm, if men can have those.

She gasped, shocked by her plea. I could only smirk at her; a good girl gone bad. "I am happy to oblige," I whispered and pulled away slightly, my entire body screaming at me to pull her back. As quickly as I could, I unbuttoned my shirt and let it slide off my shoulders. As it pooled around my ankles, Esme gazed at me, scrutinizing every line and every ab in my chest. Finally, she gave a satisfied look. Her own hands reached for her shirt, but I grabbed them almost roughly. I couldn't wait for that. I wanted to fuck her mouth. I wanted to feel her tongue rubbing along my length and her teeth gently grazing the sides as she sucked on it, and make me cum. "No," I almost growled at her. A wave of remorse washed through me, but my hands were ahead of my mind and was already slipping off my pants and boxers.

Freedom was just that once the boxers were on the floor. My erection sprung to full life and Esme stared at it. It was as if she'd never seen a dick before; maybe that was it. She was probably a virgin who was excited, nervous and confused about everything going on.

I pushed her down by her shoulders so she knelt before me, face to face with my swollen cock. After a few hesitating moments, she took the tip in her mouth and rubbed it with her tongue. I let out a moan as she took my full length in, then pulled off, grazing her teeth lightly around the sides of it. My hands went down to her hand and tangled my fingers in her hair. She let me decide the speed and continued her unbelievably amazing ministrations until I exploded inside her mouth.

As she licked all of the fluids from my shaft and gave my balls one last stroke, I struggled to catch my breath. "Your mouth… is amazing Esme."

Esme rose from her position before me. "Thanks C—" but I cut her off by putting a finger to her lips.

"No. Any other time, you can call me Carlisle, but not here. Here, you are only to call me master," I told her. I know that it sounds mean and sexist, but that was the only way I knew. Tanya was really into the dominance shit, and that kind of sex was my first kind. I was so used to it, I just thought that was the way it was. I knew there were nicer ways, but this to me was the most fun. I loved being the dominant figure—the king of it all.

Fury flared in Esme's eyes. She obviously was not a fan of dominance and bondage. "Do you enjoy making yourself appear inferior to your women partners?" she asked acidly.

This just pissed me off. Women and or men don't speak to me like that. "If you don't like it," I said folding my arms across my chest. "You can leave."

Esme mimicked my movements and we stood there glaring at each other, seeing which one would give. I was good at these things—I always won, and if I didn't I'd force them to let me win. Esme wasn't having that though. She was just determined as I was to win this stalemate. She combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed her skirt. "Well, thank you for the interview Mr. Cullen, it has been a pleasure to meet you."

Her response pissed me off further to the point I was trembling in rage. Now I think back on it, I believe it would have been wise for me to contact a therapist. "People don't refuse when I tell them to do something, Esme," I growled, spitting her name with pure distaste. What once had been a beautiful, pure name was now a cursed word in my opinion.

She glared at me, her voice as hard as stone. "People don't really care about you, and I'm not surprised. They just do so because you intimidate them!" she growled, fury showing in her own face. She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm. She wasn't going to walk away after speaking to me like that.

I pulled her close so her chest was up against mine. My body shuddered at her touch. Even though I was furious she refused me, my body still yearned for her. _Fuck… Stop it Carlisle!_ I thought to myself, feeling my erection grow hard at her touch. "No one. Speaks. To me. Like. That," I spat, trying to ignore the pulsing that was occurring my swollen member.

She jerked away. "Obviously someone should!" she replied frostily. She quickly went over and leaned down to pick over her supplies. For a moment, I thought about grabbing her from behind and yanking her skirt off and fucking that ass, but I somehow restrained myself from doing so. I don't know how or why, but I didn't. I stared at her in disbelief as she went to the door. "Good-bye Mr. Cullen," she muttered and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

When she was gone, I stood there naked for a moment, staring at the place where she disappeared. My temper was slowly melting and I was beginning to realize what a huge mistake I'd just made. I just let that angel walk out on me. I sighed and went over to the desk where most of my clothes were littered about. I flipped the switch off so the light would go out, and I dressed. I didn't button my shirt all the way, or my tie on, but I just sat in desk chair with my shirt unbuttoned and my hands behind my head. I propped my legs up on the desk like they had been when Esme first came in.

I thought about Tanya and all the mistakes I'd made with her, but none of them had been as horrible as the one I just made. I tried to remember what Esme had told me. I knew she was writing an article about me, but I wished I knew which paper it was for. I could call and get her number or something.

Making up my mind, I picked up the phone and dialed the extension for Rose downstairs. A few moments later, the older woman answered. "Sir?" she asked, her voice soft and submissive—the way I liked a woman's voice to be when she spoke to me.

"That woman—what paper was she from?" I inquired, getting a pad and paper, ready to scribble it down.

"The _Stanley Journal_," Rose replied. "Jessica Stanley runs it. Would you like their phone number?" she offered, her fingers already typing away as she went to some search engine to look it up online.

"Please," I replied, writing the title of the paper as eligible as I could.

A few moments later, the number came from the other end, and I wrote that down as well. "Thank you, Rose," I muttered quickly and hung up.

I sat there for a moment staring at the seven digit phone number debating on whether or not to call. I wished I could apologize to Esme, but at the same time I told myself that she was just another bitch, and I was the richest man on Earth that got more ass than a toilet seat. However, there was something special about Esme—something about her that had an… intangible beauty and perfection.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my phone and dialed the number of the newspaper. I tried to take deep breaths as the phone rang. "_Stanley Journal_, this is Jessica Stanley, how can I help you?" the almost nasal-voice of an obviously stressed out woman replied.

"Hello, this is Carlisle Cullen. I was just calling to inquire whether or not a woman named Esme Evenson worked there," I told her, putting on my sexiest voice for her.

Jessica didn't reply at once then she made an audible gulp. "Yes, yes she does, sir. Um, did she do anything to offend you? Is there anything I can do to make it better? She's a new reporter. Very green, she is. Please don't sue."

I chuckled at her fear she had for me. "Actually there is something you can do for me. Can you give her phone number and address?" I asked.

Silence.

When I got no reply I tried again. "Ma'am?"

"I'm here… Yes it's…" she told me Esme's phone number and address, which I wrote down underneath the number of the newspaper.

"Oh and dear, can you not mention this to Esme?" I made one last request.

She was quiet again for a few more seconds. "Sure," she said after a while. "Of course… Mr. Cullen."

* * *

><p>When the work day was finally over, I went out for a drink at a bar not too far from my offices. I met a hooker and took her home after agreeing to pay her a reasonable amount. I had a feeling she'd steal something but I could care less. I needed to blow off steam.<p>

Once I was done fucking her, she left after collecting her payment. I lay in the bed, naked and not bothering to cover up my manhood. I thought about Esme and what she really thought of me. For a moment I thought that I would die if she thought of me as a seductive pimp who didn't really care about women and viewed them as property.

As I laid there, I wished nothing more than to have Esme beside me, her head on her chest. I wished I could hold her and tease her skin while she lay there. I imagined feeling her breath on my neck, face and chest, and hearing her soft, quiet breathing as she drifted into sleep. The way her delicate body fit against mine in the office earlier that day was burned into my head. I needed to have Esme Evenson.

* * *

><p>AN: Well this was Chapter 2. I don't know how popular Carlisle's darkness will be, but I find it fuckin' sexy. XD Don't worry though if you hate this Carlisle, Esme's gonna change him. ;) Thanks for reading! R & R please!


	3. Chapter 3: Status

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three - <strong>**Status**

After storming out of Carlisle Cullen's offices, I caught a taxi and went home. I didn't want to go back to the offices to have Jessica hammer me with questions, then bite my head off for leaving. I was screwed, and I knew it. I might as well have started typing my letter of resignation when I got home, but instead when I sat down at the computer in the den, I opened up Microsoft Word and typed my name in the left hand corner. I moved down a few lines and went to the center of the paper and typed in big, bold words: "The Million-Dollar Truth".

With that, I wrote about Carlisle Cullen and his background. Furious, I typed quickly, my hands flying over the keyboard and elaborated about his true desire and will to run his business. The world was finally going to see what a true bastard Carlisle Cullen was… and my name was going to be under the title. He would come after me, but I would make sure to publicize that too and make sure everyone knew what a sadistic monster he was.

The front door flew open and smacked the wall. I sighed. My husband was home.

"Esme!" he shouted, and I heard him staggering in through the front hall. "Where the hell is my dinner?"

I flinched and saved my work on the computer. I rose from my seat at the desk in the den and went into the hallway. My husband, Charles, stood supporting himself on one side of the wall, drunk. He was tall, about six foot and very tan with a few wrinkles that made him look older than he was. He had a square face and a square jaw to go with it. His eyes were hard and gray and his hair was light brown and cropped short.

"It's three in the afternoon, Charles. What are you doing home?" I said in defense, and trying to change the subject.

"Why are you asking me so many fucking questions?" he demanded stumbling toward me. "So what if I lost my job! You have your little newspaper thing! How much are you earning? Are you trying to support this family? Huh?"

I flinched, ready to cry. I hated when he yelled at me like that. I hated when he yelled period. He had lost his job… no wonder he was drunk. Now I would have to work longer hours and he would get fed up with it and make me quit. I knew how his mind worked.

"I'm sorry Charles. I'll make you dinner now. What would you like?" I asked him trying to keep my voice calm and subordinate. Any other tone would make him furious.

"Lasagna," he declared after a moment. "With meatballs."

I nodded. "Of course, my dear," I said. "Anything else I can do for you?"

He shook his head. "Try to keep quiet. I'm going to be watching TV."

I nodded again and watched him go to the den. I sighed and went into the kitchen that broke away from the main hallway. I got out the pan I used for lasagna and began to boil the long strips of noodles used. I was just finished putting all of the noodles in the pan when the doorbell rang. "Esme!" he yelled. "Door!"

Sighing, I wiped my hands on a rag and went into the hallway. I wondered who could be visiting us in the middle of the afternoon. I opened the door and saw the man I didn't want to see ever again. Carlisle Cullen stood in the doorway wearing the same outfit he had been earlier. "Esme," he greeted me with a fake, kind smile.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded. I shoved him out of the doorway and came outside into the main hallway of the apartment complex.

"I came to apologize for my… horrible, out-of-line behavior," he said simply, his blue eyes looking calm and innocent.

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh really? You think that will change my mind? I'm already working on my article exposing the i_real_/i Mr. Cullen."

Carlisle looked at his feet that were dressed in his fancy top-dollar dress shoes. I wanted to scoff, but restrained myself. "And maybe you could come over my house and we could… uh… finish what we started today."

Rolling my eyes I asked, "The interview or the sex, Mr. Cullen?"

"Both… and both on your terms," he replied, looking sincere.

I watched him for a moment, pondering his words. As he stood there, I looked him up and down and remembered the gorgeous body that was covered by those clothes. I got wet for him. I wanted him again. It was irrational—there was no sense behind it at all—but I did. It was unexplainable what it was about this man that made me lose my sanity, but nevertheless, I lost my train of thought when he was around. He made me weak in the knees.

"ESME!" Charles's voice shouted from inside. "GET YOUR USELESS ASS BACK IN HERE THIS MOMENT!"

I sighed and looked over my shoulder at the closed door. "Who… is that?" Carlisle asked, sounded offended even though Charles had been speaking to me and not him.

"My husband," I muttered. "I'm sorry Mr. Cullen—"

"Carlisle," he interjected.

"Carlisle," I repeated. "I have to go… maybe… maybe we could talk about this later?"

"Of course," he said, but I heard the displeasure in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at the door. "I think I'd like to meet your husband, Esme."

"No, Carlisle," I said quickly. I had no idea what he would do if he met Charles, sober or buzzed up. But it wasn't Carlisle I feared as much as Charles. If Charles heard that I had been alone with a man as handsome as Carlisle, he'd strangle me. "He doesn't really like visitors."

He sighed and watched the door a moment longer. "Very well. I'll contact you tomorrow, Esme."

I watched as he turned away from me. I was about to let him go, but then an interesting thought popped into my head. "Carlisle," I called.

He turned to face me, his perfect, angelic face looking beautiful, pure and innocent. He looked… different in some way. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't find the man I'd met in the office. He was different now—more humble… more pure. "Yes?"

"H- How did you know where I live?"

He chuckled and smiled a radiant smile—another surprising, but welcome, feature of his I had not had the pleasure to view. "Let's just say I know a guy… Or woman I should say."

Without another word to me, he turned and began his way down the stairs. I watched him move with such grace until he was completely out of sight. When he was gone, my heart wrenched slightly. Angrily, I scolded myself for missing him. He was a sadistic monster and wasn't worth my time. I was a fool for even agreeing to speak to him again. Why could I just set my mind where I would never think of Carlisle Cullen ever again?

Still, as I turned back toward my door, Carlisle was still fresh in my mind.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Charles went upstairs early, ready to pass out from being drunk. I stayed down in the den and worked on the computer. I read over my article on Carlisle Cullen and found myself with a dilemma. I could delete all the dirty secrets and facts I had been able to scrounge up about him… or I could finish the interview with him as he wished.<p>

I highlighted all the words on the document and pressed the Delete button. Everything disappeared and I felt like a small part of me had died. Still… even though Carlisle was… what he was, I don't think he deserved that… even when he made an effort to redo everything. I decided to give him a chance.

Not wanting to go to bed, I sat in the den, thinking of, yet again, Carlisle Cullen. I thought about him in the office and how different in he was. In the office, he seemed like the king of the universe with the earth in his palm. There was an almost animalistic quality about him, but in my doorway, he wasn't as cocky and arrogant, but… more like a normal guy.

I bided as much time as I could in the den before sleep got the better of me and walked toward the stairs, my heels clicking on the wooden floor to our room just behind the kitchen in a long hallway. At the end of that hallway was a small bathroom with a bathtub, and shower.

Going inside our room, I heard Charles already snoring away and let out a small sigh of relief. I couldn't help but give thanks to God that I wouldn't have to have sex with him. That would completely ruin the amazing buzz seeing Carlisle gave me.

I changed into a long, pink nightgown and carefully climbed into bed beside Charles. I stared at his face sadly, wishing someone—anyone, even Carlisle Cullen—slept next to me. He didn't even look peaceful or cute at all when he slept. Drool dribbled in the corner of his mouth, which immediately turned me off. I might suck Carlisle Cullen's cock, but I hated kissing Charles Evenson.

Exhaustion hit me as soon as I lay down. It didn't take long before my eyelids became too heavy to keep open and I closed them, finally giving in and began to dream.

It wasn't surprising that my dream was about Carlisle Cullen. I couldn't seem to get him out of my head. It was strange—it wasn't a new dream, rather I was reliving my moments in the office. However, instead of Carlisle telling me to call him master once I was done sucking off him, he just smiled and took me to the desk.

Confused, but not arguing, I did as he asked and laid on the desk. He moved so he was hovering over me and slowly slipped his massive cock inside…

I never got to finish my dream, Charles's alarm clock rang and woke me from my sleep. I looked around and realized I was cuddling into Charles's chest. He chuckled and kissed my head gently. I closed my eyes again and pretended to still be asleep. He shut the alarm off and got up, ignoring me. I wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief, but held it in me.

Charles got dressed, then came over to the bed again. He kissed my head again. "Esme…" he whispered and pulled a strand of hair behind my ear. Charles could be almost loving when he was sober. "Time to wake up," he said, putting on hand on my shoulder, but that hand began wandering down toward my chest.

I blinked open my eyes, pretending to have been asleep. I sat up and his wandering hand just went down to my waist. "How are you feeling?" I asked him, sounding more awake than I should have.

He sat on the bed in front of me and pulled me closer to him. "Fine, how are you?" he said planting another kiss on my forehead. He was missing his sex and he wanted it right now… I understood it now: he was sucking up to me.

I looked at him and shrugged. "I should probably get ready for work… And you're probably hungry," I said getting up, but he grabbed my arm, gently thank God.

"Please stay," he whispered looking in my eyes. I looked away, unable to hold his hard hazel gaze for long. Unlike Carlisle who always had a smooth face, Charles hadn't shaved in a couple days and his cheeks and chin were prickly with newly growing hair. I hated being kissed all over by a wire brush.

I knew if I refused him, I would be in huge trouble, so I decided to save myself and sat back down. He smiled widely and began to unbutton his shirt again. "Charles, you need to leave for work, don't you honey?" I asked.

Charles smiled between my lips. "I think you and I both forgot that I got fired yesterday." I almost cried as he pinned me beneath him and started to pull off my shirt.

Charles left afterward to go search for a new job. Once he was gone, I called Carlisle up on the phone. He answered after a few rings. "Carlisle Cullen," he said when he picked up. "How can I help you?"

"C—Mr. Cullen," I almost whimpered into the phone. My ribs hurt from Charles, and for some strange reason I felt like I was betraying Carlisle when it was really the other way around. I didn't understand it, but it was how I felt. "When… When can I meet you?"

* * *

><p>AN: Poor Esme. Don't worry though, Carlisle will save her. Thanks for reading. R & R please! :)


	4. Chapter 4: Confidential

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four - <strong>**Confidential**

It was a Wednesday morning when Esme called me. I was in my office flipping through a Playboy and imagining that each of those women had Esme's face. One of my unfortunate mistakes was that I didn't even get a chance to get a glimpse of Esme's body the last time I had her in my office. I closed the magazine and threw it on the desk just as my cell phone rang.

I looked at the caller ID, before answering. The ID read "Charles Evenson". I knew it must be Esme. So, her husband's name was Charles was it? I

Even though I knew it was Esme, I decided to keep it formal. "Carlisle Cullen, how can I help you?"

"C—Mr. Cullen," Esme whimpered into the phone. She sniffled and let out another whimper. I knew she was crying, or at least trying not to cry. My heart broke hearing her. I wanted to have her in the room with me so badly and cradle her to my chest, just hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. I said nothing, unsure what to say. "When… when can I meet you?" she inquired.

Her question took me off-guard. I was happily surprised that she wanted to meet me somewhere to finish the interview and possibly the sex. I wanted to get her near me as soon as possible but I knew certain things had to be considered. "Can you come over tonight? You could spend the night," I added the last part suggestively. "You could tell your wonderful husband you had a business trip to go on… Who knows maybe you could stay a few days. It would all be completely confidential."

She was silent for a long moment. "Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. Cullen… He… He doesn't like letting me out of his sight… or this house."

I sighed. "Esme, listen to me: this man is bad for you. He will hurt you in so many ways. Does he love you? Does he want you? Does he care about your feelings? Would he do anything for you? I—other men could give you more than he can," I told her, almost giving myself up. I didn't know why I was telling her this; is this how I feel for her? Do I love this woman?

It was stupid to think I didn't. I knew the answer to that question before I even asked it. Esme needed me, and I needed her.

"And I suppose you could do all that stuff?" Esme asked into the phone, her voice sounding tense and tortured.

Looking at the floor of my office, I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Maybe… Maybe I could. Maybe I want to."

There was a long moment of silence, and then the line went dead.

* * *

><p>I waited in agony all day in my office. I didn't work—I couldn't. I was just too distracted about Esme, worrying if I had touched her, or just scared her further. I couldn't seem to think straight, the only thing I could think about was Esme alone in that house with that monster of a husband.<p>

Just as I was about to call it a day and head to a bar or somewhere to find someone to blow off steam with, my phone rang. It was the office phone, and for a moment I thought it was an investor or some other stockholder, but I still answered it. "Carlisle Cullen, how may I help you?"

"Carlisle?" Esme's voice came. "Is 7:30 okay?"

I was silent for a long moment, dumbfounded that she had called me back and even wanted to continue what we'd started in the office. My pants went tight at the thought of touching her again. God, I missed that body.

"I… uh… sure," I stuttered, unable to think straight or talk eligibly. Earlier today I sort of confessed my deep, strong feelings for her, and now she wanted to spend the night with me. Maybe I got to her. Maybe… maybe she felt the same way about me.

"Great. I'll take a cab there. What's your address again?" she asked sounding pleased and confident. There were some muffling sounds that indicated she was getting a pad and paper.

I tell her and she thanks me, and then hangs up. I'm left sitting in my office in shock. She actually agreed to come meet me. I'm still processing this thought when I rise from my chair and head out of my office.

* * *

><p>After saying goodbye to the receptionists, I headed outside to the parking garage a block over and get in my black Mercedes. The moment I turn the key in the ignition, the radio begins blasting out "Government Hooker" by this chick called Lady GaGa. I turned it down, the weird beat of the song being almost too much, and back out of my spot while almost hitting an oncoming Buick.<p>

The Buick owner laid on the horn but I laid mine back. I shouted some words of profanity out the window before peeling out of the garage. I continued to jam out to Lady GaGa, thinking the lyrics to the song fit my lifestyle and drove out of the city to my mansion.

My house was a large white, mansion that looked somewhat like a miniature White House. Well… actually the White House was probably smaller than my house. It was huge, and a very large amount of space for one man, and that was how I liked it. If I got bored in my room, I'd move to somewhere else. I had an indoor swimming pool, and indoor tennis court (even though I never in my life played tennis), an indoor bowling alley, and outside I had a small golf course in the back. Yeah, I know it's a lot. Hell, I don't play tennis, bowl, or play golf. Golf is a game of losers. End of story. Why I had a course in my back yard, I have no fucking idea.

I parked my car in the large, five-car garage connected to my house and to the very large, very long driveway. Also parked in the garage was my black Porsche 911 Turbo, my silver Ducati 848 motorcycle, my bright red Ferrari F430, and finally, at the very end, a large camouflage-colored Jeep Wrangler. I was into cars, I'll tell you that much. I walked past my long line of vehicles and went inside my house through the door connected to the garage.

When I went inside I realized how horrible my house looked. The kitchen (the place I entered from the garage) was littered with empty food boxes, bags, cans, bowls, you name it. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes and even some of my clothes were spread out all over the floor.

Realizing how unfriendly it seemed to women, and how messy it was, I quickly began to gather up my clothes and dirty dishes to prepare for Esme.

* * *

><p>I worked my fucking ass off until I heard that doorbell ring. I had thrown all my dirty clothes into the laundry room (which I forgotten I'd had) and washed all the dirty dishes, not to mention clean up my bedroom which was even worse than the kitchen.<p>

I went to the door, sweating, and out of breath. Esme stood there like she as in one of those romantic comedies in a trench coat with seemingly nothing on underneath. "Hi," she said politely, and sweetly like a prostitute would.

Unable to hide my suspicions, I responded, "hey…" knowing something was up. Esme seemed to be this out-going, independent person. I never expected her to be so… subordinate. A part of me liked subs and was selfishly happy, another part of me couldn't bear to see Esme turn into one.

She looked at me, almost concerned. "Is something wrong, sir?"

That did it. "What's wrong?" I blurted out looking at her and her trench coat. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice not sounding so girly and innocent anymore. "Do you not like it?"

"The act? No. That's not what I fell in l—" I just cut myself off right there and resisted to do a face-palm. Why was I such an idiot? Now she knew how I felt. The sad part was, I didn't even know what I felt. Whatever I did feel for this woman was strong, I knew that much.

She looked at me, almost shocked and expecting. "You're… or you fell…"

"No," I told her bluntly, feeling the need to cover up my mistake. "That… I don't actually… Forget I said anything!" I told her harshly out of my own embarrassment.

Esme looked away sheepishly. "Yeah… I guessed that. I don't either… feel that way about you I mean. You're an arrogant prick."

I had to smile slightly. "You're a psychotic bitch. We good here?" I asked, joking.

Even though I it was mean to be a teasing comment, I saw Esme flinch. "Yeah. We're good," she whispered. "So am I going to be able to interview you or what?"

I nodded. "Of course you can. Do you want to do that now or after the… you know?" I asked, thinking that at the moment it would be best to keep the conversation clean.

She rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed. "You know, Mr. Cullen… I think I just want to do the interview right now. Calling me a psychotic bitch is a bit of a turn-off in case you didn't know!" she snapped, her eyes narrowed.

I watched her, a little shocked. "I was kidding. I don't really think you're a psychotic bitch. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be inviting you into my home… Even if I was going to get laid," I said, adding the last part before she could make a snide comment.

Esme just kept her eyes on the floor. "Let's get it over with Your Rudeness."

"That joked sucked," I retorted. "But as you wish Your Bitchy-ness."

"Yours sucked too," she muttered, and waited for me to lead her to the sitting room. I did so and took her into the sitting room that had a plasma TV mounted on one wall with a brown leather couch that faced it. I sat on one side of the couch, and Esme sat on the other as far away from me as she could.

She took her trench coat off to reveal a sleeveless, black top—one of those that are split down the middle that tease us guys since it shows a small part of the boob. She also wore a very short black shirt to match that, if she stood up would just be covering her ass. I felt my dick twitch with wanting.

"So… What's the first question?"

"How much income do you receive?" she asked looking at her notepad.

"Personally, I get roughly about two million a year. Cullen Gas is all across America, you know," I said, then added the last part. "My employees also make large yearly salaries, some more than others—depends on their position."  
>Esme scribbled that down. "Everyone wants to know about your family life… Would you mind telling a little?"<p>

I looked at Esme. Every part of me screamed no… well every part of me except my dick. Maybe if I told her my life story she'd take that fucking dress off. I let my eyes devour her for a brief moment before looking away. "If I tell you, will you take that dress off?"

Esme glared at me, then looked down as if she were debating the question thoroughly. I knew she was thinking about her career as a journalist and how a story like this would help her, but she'd have to fuck me to get it. I smirked. I had her right where I wanted her.

"Deal," she allowed reluctantly.

I smirked devilishly and cleared my throat. I told her my life story, as I promised. I don't feel like repeating it all since I've stated it earlier—about my father being a drunk, my mother and my sister dying, me wanting to be something in the world—you know the one about my psychotic father, my little sister and my now deceased mother and sister?

Esme seemed so happy that she was getting all this good information I had never revealed to anyone before. She listened carefully while scribbling my story down on paper. She didn't even seem to care that the moment I was done telling my story she'd have to fuck me until I was satisfied, and believe me, it takes a long time to completely satisfy Carlisle Cullen.

When the story was over and Esme had finished writing everything down, she looked at me. "Now?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"If you like," I replied, trying to sound polite, but I was dying on the inside. _Yes now! Do you know how badly I've been wanting this? Take your fucking clothes off already!_ I thought.

Esme nodded and looked at me then slipped off the black top, and to my great pleasure she was wearing one of those thin lacey bras that didn't seem to have any support at all and was obviously made only for seduction. She got up and pulled the skirt down so it pulled around her ankles. I smirked. No underwear for Miss Esme. I liked this naughty side.

She looked at me expectantly, then unhooked her bra in the back and let if fall forward. Good God she was beautiful—a perfect sculpted angel that was just standing there ready for me to leap off the couch and take her. I got up then and pulled my gray t-shirt over my head. She stared at my chest for a moment, her eyes fixated on my abs before looking away as if she wasn't even interested. I unzipped my pants and slid them down then sat back on the couch in my boxers. "Give me a lap dance," I said simply.

Esme looked at me, then at my crotch. I was visibly excited, but I wanted her to grind against me and tease me a little before I fucked her on the floor, or the couch, or wherever we fell. Nevertheless, she moved on to the couch and lowered herself onto me and sat, then began to grind against me. I groaned in please and ran one hand down her back to her butt and cupped on cheek. She slapped my arm for me to stop and continued to move, until I could feel her sudden wetness soak through my boxers, or was it mine? I didn't know all I did know was that neither of us could wait much longer.

"Enough," I whispered, breathless and tried to get up. She climbed off me immediately and watched my face as I took my boxers off. "There… get on the floor," I instructed.

She did as I told her and laid down on the floor, her legs slightly open for me to enter then looked up only at my face. Never once did she glance at my cock. I hovered over and looked into her dark brown eyes. I felt that feeling of wanting, not just to fuck her, but to hold her close, caress her… even kiss her. Her full lips that were still coated with lipstick were very tempting, but I remembered the promise I made when my wife left me and I intended to keep that promise as long as I lived.

This wasn't my ex-wife though. She looked up at me and took a deep breath. "Fuck me, Carlisle," she whispered. Or I imagined she whispered. I couldn't remember I wanted her to say it… but I still can't remember whether she said it or not. I still obliged to it and began to enter her slowly, something I rarely did.

Esme groaned in pleasure and threw her arms around my neck and pulled my hair. I didn't care, I just continued to enter her until I was completely sheathed. Her warm, wet walls covered my member and seemed to contract as she wrapped her legs around my waist. "Move, Carlisle! God please move!" she shouted now. Now that, I know for a fact, happened.

I groaned half from that fact that it felt fucking amazing to be inside her, half from the fact that she wanted me to move. I continued thrusting as quickly as I could, the build up inside me becoming almost too much to bare. Esme screamed my name in pleasure and I felt her folds contract around me as I continued to hit her sweet spot every time until I felt her warm liquids flow around me. A moment later, I groaned and released, letting my seed coarse inside her.

The moment I pulled out, I froze with fear and looked down at her. She looked the happiest I've ever seen her just lying on the floor, her eyes half closed, smiling up at me. She didn't notice I hadn't used a condom and neither had I. I gulped and looked away, scared that I might have a child soon. I didn't know what happened—I wasn't usually one to forget those kinds of precautions. I hoped that nothing would happen and Esme wouldn't notice. I hoped…

"Carlisle…" she giggled as if she were high on something. "I like you."

I looked at her and had to smile a little bit. "I… I guess I like you too," I allowed, careful not to slip up like last time.

"Carlisle," she said again. "Will you kiss me?"

I looked at her, a little taken aback, and unsure. I looked at her pleading face and big brown eyes before pursing my lips together in a thin line I tried to remember my rules. _No attachment, Carlisle,_ I tried to remind myself. _But you already are attached to the girl. Just kiss her. She's not Tanya._

Despite my best wishes—I don't know what possessed me to do it—I leaned down and gently pressed my lips to hers, and sparks flew.

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><p><em>I ran after Tanya as she headed for the door, her suitcase filled to the brim with her clothes. "Tanya!" I called after her, my voice breaking. I was crying. My mother and Rosalie had died a few months before and now I was losing my beautiful wife. "Tanya, please don't go! Please! I'll do whatever you want!"<em>

_She whipped around to face me, her gray eyes hard. "No Carlisle! That's why I'm leaving you! Some women don't like being treated like queens and treating their husbands like dirt! It's meant to be the other way around. I wanted you to be the master… to actually have some form of dominance over me, but it's all about me and I'm sick of it! You kiss me all the fucking time but barely take your dick out any more? I want what's in your pants Carlisle, not your lips! God sometimes—no all the time—I just wanted you to pin me to the ground and fuck the shit out of me, but no! You had to carry me to the bedroom and kiss me for an hour before you'd finally take your shorts off!"_

_It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. My mother always taught me to be respectful toward women, especially after my father… Tanya never even told me she wanted what she was saying. "Tanya… I'll change. I won't kiss you anymore. I'll be the master, just please don't leave! I'll change for you, Tanya! Don't leave me! Please!"_

_Tanya just rolled her eyes. "You're a weak sod Carlisle. No woman wants a man who breaks down during a break up!" she snapped and headed toward the door._

_"We took vows, Tanya! Remember that? 'Till death do us part'? 'As long as we both shall live'? Remember those? On the altar? On our wedding day?" I called after her, desperate not to lose the one thing that I really cared about in my existence. "Do you remember that?"_

_She turned around again. "Yes. I do Carlisle, and marrying a pathetic, lousy excuse for a man like you was the worst mistake I've ever made! Once I leave you, I'm filing for a divorce."_

_I stared after her and felt the tears come. I rarely cried, but I loved Tanya and I thought she loved me, how could she do this to me? "Tanya… please… please Tanya, anything you want—it's yours. I'll buy you whatever you want—no strings attached. I don't care how much it costs, just don't leave!" I begged, making one last effort to keep, who I believed was the love of my life, in the house._

_She shook her head. "What do I have to do to get rid of you, all ready? What do you want me to say? I never actually loved you? You're a pansy? I'm leaving you for a more manly, sexier man? I've been cheating on you for the past three years? Because guess what—I have!"_

_Tanya glared at me, her once loving gray eyes were now full of scorn and hate. What was wrong with me? Why could I not give her what she wanted? Why was she refusing it when I was begging her to stay with me? "Tanya…"_

_She just let out an irritated growl and stormed out the door._

* * *

><p>I carried Esme up to my room after our kiss. She seemed exhausted so I decided not to press her for more. I laid her on my bed and took my place beside her. She rolled over so her back was too me and I came up behind her and spooned her. She didn't move, but I could feel her tense when my skin touched hers. She still didn't trust me. "Sleep," I encouraged, my voice a little hoarse.<p>

My head rested beside hers and I wanted to kiss her again… Kissing her brought back bad memories of Tanya, but good memories of the man I was once was… and maybe could be again with Esme's help. I buried my nose in her hair and inhaled her sweet scent.

I had broken my rules—I was attached to her. I wanted her to be mine and mine alone so that she'll never ever leave this bed. I wrapped one arm around her and pulled her closer to me and just enjoyed the feeling of her perfectly-sculpted body.

Esme's steady breathing almost lulled me to sleep until, when I was half-awake and half-asleep and I swore I heard Esme whisper my name in her sleep.

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><p>AN: Well, Gees, it feels like I haven't written this in FOREVER. Well I've finished another fanfic of mine, so this a few others will be my priority. :) Hope you enjoy. R & R please.


	5. Chapter 5: A Start

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**A Start**

I woke up the next morning to the smell of cheap cologne and the musty smell of cigarettes. I didn't want to open my eyes just yet. I wanted to just try and fall back to sleep and convince myself that this wasn't the life I was living—that I wasn't in bed with Carlisle Cullen just so I could write a good story… but Carlisle Cullen even consumed my dreams now these days… Well better Carlisle than Charles.

A soft, steady breathing only made me remember more. I opened my eyes and found his large, muscular, tan arm wrapped around my waist. I tried to roll over, and managed to do so awkwardly, getting to a point where I didn't care if I woke him or not, but he didn't stir. I watched his face as he slept—he looked almost angelic, and boyish at the same time. His blond hair was mussed he looked innocent as he slept beside me, but he looked more like a young boy dreaming innocent dreams than the sex manic man I knew he really was… Or maybe… maybe I was just being a little harsh on him.

Not wanting to look at the clock, I just watched Carlisle sleep, unsure if I should be waiting for him to wake up, or just leave, and also unsure if I should be touched or disgusted by him. Nevertheless, I kept thinking about the night before… His tragic life story with his now dead mother and sister and his abusive father… Maybe Carlisle couldn't help what he was… Maybe his father's actions and attitude were transferred into him… Maybe it was just the Cullen instinct.

His blue eyes moved under his eyelids, then slowly opened. He blinked a few times before looking me right in the eye. I wanted to look away, but at the same time, found myself being held there, captivated by his gaze. "'Morning," he said simply.

I didn't reply. Carlisle looked at my face, studying it, looking to see whether I enjoyed last night or hated it. I was ashamed to admit that I enjoyed last night very much. Charles had never made love to me like that before. Maybe it was just that Carlisle had more experience, or that his body was more equipped for that kind of thing, if you're catching my drift there. Still, I refused to admit to him that last night was undoubtedly the best night of my life.

"What time is it?" Carlisle asked, as if it was a casual conversation and we weren't naked in the same bed together.

I glanced over at the clock and sighed. "Eleven fifteen," I told him, my voice hoarse from lack of use. I would have to get home to cook Charles dinner soon. I knew I was in for hell when he demanded where I had been last night. I would have a new set of bruises to sport, no doubt.

"Damn," Carlisle muttered. "Well I missed my soaps," he tried to joke.

I rolled my eyes. "I have to go," I muttered back and sat up.

He sat up too and grabbed my forearm gently. "Back to your husband?" he asked, his face almost disapproving.

"Where else will I go?" I asked, wanting to add a snide suggestion afterward, but decided against it. I wasn't in the mood to snap back at Carlisle Cullen this morning. A feeling of dread had crept over me after the thought of returning home to a beating.

"You could stay here," he offered.

I looked at him. This is the third time in twenty-four hours he's hinted that he actually wants me besides the fact that he pinned me to the floor last night and had sex with me. I let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, right," I said wishing that he was joking, but at the same time I didn't want him to be joking. A part of me wanted a big strong man to wrap me up in his arms like a knight in shining armor and carry me away from my troubles and just… make me free again… I wanted to be freed of being incarcerated to Charles Evenson, even if that knight in shining armor riding in on a large white steed was Carlisle Cullen.

"I'm serious," he replied. "I have an extra room you could use if you're desperate… Just… keep that in mind… If you write a good article about me, you'll be welcome here… Even if the article is shit, you'll be welcome here."

"For another small fee?" I shot back, getting into a cranky mood that Carlisle set me in with his obnoxious behavior.

"No charge," he promised and got up. He went to his closet and slipped on a new pair of boxers and a pair of khaki pants. "I'll drive you home if you like."  
>"I can get a taxi," I replied, getting up as well.<p>

"Well, too bad, because I'm driving you," he said simply and walked out of the room, leaving me glaring after him. Any feelings I felt for this dickhead were gone.

* * *

><p>After I got my clothes back on, Carlisle drove me home in red Ferrari. I complained most of the way about how I wasn't meant to be attracting attention to myself and about I seriously thought he should see a therapist and that it was his father's behavior that contributed to his sex-oriented lifestyle.<p>

Carlisle just listened, or pretended to listen, until he got bored and turned on the radio. When I kept talking he turned it up loud enough where he couldn't hear me anymore and I gave up. I just sat there listening to a band called Fun. Their son "We Are Young" was actually pretty catchy and I couldn't help by glance over at Carlisle a few times. This song fit him. I wondered if he noticed.

When he reached my dreary little apartment complex, I took the liberty of turning off the radio. "Thanks," I muttered grudgingly.

Carlisle just nodded and as I pulled my trench-coat tight, he took my hand in his. I looked over at him confused. He just leaned toward me and planted a soft, genuine kiss on my lips. I wanted to kiss him back, but Charles could be watching. He kissed me a few more times before pulling away. "Come back," he said simply.

I just stared at him for a moment and looked into his icy-blue eyes. They weren't the same blue eyes I saw in the office—demanding but relaxed—and they weren't the same eyes I saw last night—full of lust, and this angry wanting—now they looked… kind and sweet. They made me almost want to stay.

I forced myself to look away and got out of his car. He watched me, and then kept his eyes on me as I walked around the front of the vehicle and went into my apartment.

A part of me was dying leaving him in that car, but another part was glad to be free of him. The dying part was stronger.

* * *

><p>Jessica published the article I'd written. Millions read it and Carlisle Cullen got all the fame for my work. The world was so unfair sometimes. I wrote more articles, and Jessica published them all. I interviewed more famous businessmen and women, but none of them were like Carlisle was. I couldn't get him out of my mind.<p>

It disturbed me—how much I thought about him. I tried to focus on my articles and making sure I had dinner on the table by the time Charles got home—he got a new job as the manager of a warehouse. Every day, I prayed that some huge box would fall on top of him and crush him. I know that it was cruel, but I really did hate that man. Since he'd gotten the new job though, he's been more tired and hasn't been so abusive… as long as I have dinner on the table. I was late one time and it was like Mt. Saint Helens erupted. That made me realize that the real Charles was still inside him.

Every now and then, I would dream of Carlisle… It would always be a very good dream full of lust and sex. But the Carlisle in my dreams was a different Carlisle than I what I knew him to be. In my dreams he was a good man—a man who caressed me and kissed me, held me close. The real Carlisle I knew would never do that. He just wanted his release and after that I could piss off.

Still, I could not stop thinking about Carlisle Cullen. He never called me after our night together… He got his publicity and his good article… He wouldn't want me anymore… I was a fool to think he'd actually look me up. But I still could not get him out of my mind…

* * *

><p><strong>6 Months Later<strong>

Jessica had sent me on a business trip in upstate New York. They were having this huge convention of all these different companies and I was sent as a reporter from our newspaper. Charles could have cared less, but I had a few instructions: no cheating, no drinking, no pleasure, no men, call him every night, and no running away. Well, he didn't put them so bluntly but that was his basic meanings in his speech.

I was glad to go for once. It was a three-day convention so I would be gone the entire weekend until Sunday night. I was so happy to be able to leave New York City without Charles and have some fun. Of course, I wouldn't abide to my husband's rule list… Well I'd call him and not run, but as for the men, the drinks, and the pleasure, I wasn't paying any mind to his idiocy. I knew that he would do the same if the situation were reversed.

Taking a plane was the fastest way to Buffalo, New York, but Charles didn't like the idea. Of course, I didn't care and took a plane anyway. I sat in coach next to a lovely young woman about my age, maybe younger reading a book. She was dressed in a nice purple dress that was low cut in the front. She had long brown hair that draped all the way down the middle of her back and big brown eyes. She looked like she was going to a dinner party after this, or maybe she was meeting her boyfriend or something.

I took out my laptop and started to type the beginning of my article the best I could with the information I already had when I felt something hit the bare skin of my elbow. I turned around and sitting a row behind me in the opposite aisle was none other than Carlisle Cullen. When he saw me looking at him, he smirked and got up. He went to the back of the plane where the restrooms were and I guess that was my cue to follow him.

Setting my laptop down, I got up and walked swiftly to the back of the plane. He had disappeared but it was only a few seconds once I was back there when strong arms pulled me into the men's room. He pulled me right to his chest and held me there, sniffing my hair. "Oh, Esme," he breathed in my ear. I could smell some kind of alcohol on his breath, but I knew just by the way he was acting that he wasn't drunk. Carlisle just always acted this way.

He spun me around so I faced him and pulled me so I was up against him. I felt his hard, erect member poking me in the stomach. I moaned, suddenly wanting him. I wanted to kiss him and pull him close during our passion, but I wasn't sure if that was still partially out of bounds. I locked my arms around his neck and just pulled myself closer.

Carlisle chuckled and lifted me, hitching my legs around his hips so his erection was now poking the apex of my legs making me moan softly. He ran his hands down my back and to my butt, caressing it. He walked toward the wall and pressed my back up against it while he took off his pants and boxers. I tried to help him but taking of my panties the best I could while my legs were still around him. He took them off the rest of the way, the just looked at my face.

He stopped then and looked me up and down. "What am I doing?" he muttered and set me down on the floor.

"What _are_ you doing?" I added when I was on the floor I moved toward him and took his manhood in my hands. "Come on, I'm right here. Take me."

"No, that's not it," he said and ran a hand through his hair. For the first time, I noticed a wedding ring on his finger.

When I noticed it, for some strange reason, I felt like I had a gaping hole in my chest. "You… There's someone else?" I asked, staring at his face to see his reaction.

He looked at me, his face almost pained and then at his left hand. He saw his ring and frowned. I slipped it off his finger and put it in his pocket. "There's no one but you. I've missed you so much. I've wanted to call you but I never got up enough nerve… Hell, I've barely looked at other women since I met you."

I didn't know why, but I believed him. I moved my hands away from his erection and took his large hand in my small ones. "Carlisle… I…"

But he never gave me a chance to finish, he pressed his lips to mine and just held me close to him. I kissed him back gently, that was all he seemed to want now. I felt my heart grow whole again and I ran my fingers through his hair. Even though I never got to finish my sentence, I think we both understood what I was going to say.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly enough, we didn't have sex in the bathroom after that. We put our clothes on and walked out holding hands like we were two young lovers with nothing but innocence in our relationship. Carlisle pulled a few strings and I got to move and sit next to him on the rest of the ride. He's glance over now and then and read what I'd written on my laptop, then I slap his shoulder playfully and scold him lightly. He'd chuckle and look out the window or some other nonsense. Sometimes he'd slip a playful hand under my dress when I wasn't looking and make me jump when his skin touched mine in a very touchy spot.<p>

One time, he tried to finger me and I just grabbed his arm and leaned toward him. "If you keep this up, I'm going to cum before we even get to any hotel and that'll be one story you don't want into the news," I warned.

Carlisle just chuckled and kissed my head affectionately. "We'll see who lets go first," he whispered and kissed my head again.

I liked this new Carlisle. He was like my dream Carlisle—soft and sensitive but still dark and sexy. I don't know why he suddenly changed, but I wouldn't change him back if I could. When the plane landed, Carlisle walked me into the airport, his arm around my waist. His hand then wandered downward and squeezed my ass. "Cancel your hotel reservations," he whispered in my ear. "You'll be staying with me for the next few days. You are here for the conference aren't you?"

"How…" I began to ask but trailed off. "You're going?"

Carlisle laughed. "Why I'm insulted you would think that the board wouldn't invite me! I am, after all, their favorite member."

I chuckled a little. "Will I ride with you to the conference?" I asked as we continued to walk through the throngs of people until we reached the glass doors that led to the parking lot. Carlisle opened one and held it for me as I stepped through.

"Absolutely," he said after catching up to me. "I wouldn't let you go alone."

I smiled and looked down as his hand brushed against mine. His long fingers wrapped themselves around my small hand and squeezed it once. I felt like my heart would burst with joy. I didn't know why this pleased me so much; I didn't know why I was so thrilled to be walking with Carlisle Cullen to a hotel room to spend the next three days with Carlisle Cullen. I wanted to say something to him, but decided against it and gave his hand a squeeze in return.

He didn't reply verbally, but he glanced over at me, and I knew he understood.

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><p>AN: R & R please! The plot thickens and I know they got together very quickly but I skipped 6 months and absence makes the heart grow fonder. :) XD Anywho. And yes, Carlisle _does_ watch the soaps.


	6. Author's Note: Discontinued?

Hey everyone one, it's Warriorcat890, here. I just want to get my point across here. I recently got a review from someone who graciously told me about this other FanFiction called "Master of the Universe" I looked it up and started having a panic attack when I realized how similar they were. **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT CALL ME A THIEF!** I'm** not **lying to you when I say **I didn't know this story existed** until recently and I got the idea from another FanFiction my friend wrote and I asked her if I could use something similar and she said I could. My friend, though is not the author of "Master of the Universe". My friend in real life (my other friend is on the Internet) gave me the idea for the title. I was asking her about it and we collaborated and decided it.

**Please, please, please do not come here and swamp me with hateful spam reviews**. I am **sincerely sorry, I did not know** and if the author of "Master of the Universe" comes and **asks me if I could discontinue, I will**. I might me over-exaggerating it but **I don't want people to think I'm a thief when I'm not**. This was a **crazy coincidence **and I promise to research more before putting out an idea. Thank you.

~Warrior


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